I’m taking a composition class at college, and there is nothing that gives me more contrasting feelings than timed freewrites.
You can’t rush perfection, right?
Now, I’m not saying my writing is perfect, especially not at 8 am. But come on, it’s tough to start and finish a great idea in one minute. I write in cursive, which helps a bit, but let’s be real here. I need a bit of time to really develop what I’m trying to say and to have enough time to finish that last sentence to finish it off, even if my ideas aren’t fully processed. I want listeners and readers (we have to share them) to understand what I’m saying and where it’s coming from.
The sharing thing is another thing that gets me. Sometimes, I write about something very personal that maybe I don’t want anyone else to read. Maybe it’s really sad or just something really intimate that I want to express. This should be a safe place to do that-that’s what writing is for. But I feel like I can’t express myself effectively without worrying about who in my class is going to read it. Ugh.
Okay. That’s my rant for the evening. Now, I must stop procrastinating on my break and finish writing a paper for US History to 1865 (shush. Don’t say anything) about the Puritans and a woman kidnapped by Native Americans. Enthralling.
At my college, I was recently hired as a night host in my residence hall. It’s a decent job-you literally get paid $8 an hour to sit around, have people sign pieces of paper and do your homework. It’s not too demanding. At all.
The thing here is, on weekends, night hosts work from 11:45 at night until 4:45 the next morning (which is why this is being posted at such an odd hour). We can’t get up and walk around unless it’s 4 feet to the bathroom or taking our hourly rounds of the building, in which one of the two hosts must stay behind to watch the doors. Back to the timing of the job, though (my apologies-writing this at 3:30 in the morning is not as easy or fluid as I thought it might be).
I figured that since my homework is done, I would bring down my writing things (notebook, laptop, pens, pencils…) and write some pieces or work on ones I already have in progress or something. I have no idea. Just to write and stay moving and awake. That’s all I wanted. I want to just write and enjoy myself and what happens? Writer’s block strikes. My dear friend, how I’ve missed you!
*That line was sarcasm. I promise.*
So now, here I am, 3:33 in the morning, sitting in a college lounge chair with a little bag of potato chips and a craving for one more cup of coffee (to add to the 3 I’ve had all day), and I can’t even think of a story to tell or a song to write or a poem to construct. Nothing is coming to me at this point, and I’ve still got about another hour.
Lesson learned: don’t bother writing at 3 in the morning unless there’s something really weighing heavy on your mind that you know for a fact you can write about. Especially if you’re me.
Audrey Hepburn stated this, and it has become somewhat of a mantra of mine. I believe that as people, we should hold ourselves to acting with elegance and class every single day. It’s an important part of who I am as a person-I treat people with dignity. That’s the legacy I want to leave behind, through both my writing and my life in general.
This begins my blog about my life as a college girl and life as a teenage author.